Encounters Of A Different Kind Series

Author: Hannahbee

Disclaimer: I normally play in another sandbox, but two naughty boys whispered wicked things into my ear and dragged me away. I'm so sorry, JKR, I was so weak. But hey, you still own them. I don't. :o((

Rating: R for swearing and references to sex? Just to be on the safe side. But definitely NC-17 later.

Summary: Dramionaise. First installment in a series of strange encounters, starting 5th year. Hermione makes some startling discoveries in the Restricted Section.

Apology: If I offended any Italians, I'm really sorry about that. I didn't mean to. Please forgive me.
Warning: I haven't read the 5th book, yet. I heard some rumours, but I gave them my own twist.
AN: italics = thoughts (tho I guess that'll be pretty obvious)

Jessi and Lexy - thank you so much for helping me/beta-reading.
A special thank you to Shelly - you really are a kindred spirit. You did a damn fine job.
If there are still any mistakes, it's my fault.


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Encounter #1 - Restricted Section


Before the summer break the Restricted Section of the Hogwarts library had been just that… a restricted section, only accessible if you had permission from one of the professors (usually a slip of paper) or an invisibility cloak (courtesy of your best friend). But with the start of Umbridge's reign at Hogwarts the Restricted Section had turned into a fortress.

Now you had to be in Slytherin to gain access to said section or in league with Voldemort.

Hermione couldn't really say what the decisive factor was, but were there any Slytherins that didn't support Voldemort in one way (being a Junior Death Eater or close to being initiated as one) or another (belonging to a Death Eater family)?

Fact (based on her rigorous observations) was no muggle-borns, muggle-supporters or pupils outside Slytherin, simply thirsty for knowledge, had been in the Restricted Section since the start of term. Not even Deputy Head Mistress McGonagall could change that. She and the other professors were not allowed to hand out permissions to the said section, thanks to Umbridge.

The situation was beyond frustrating, beyond aggravating.

Then again… if your best friend was kind enough to lend you his invisibility cloak, you could just sneak into the aforementioned section in the middle of the night without detection and feed your addiction.

With a very pleased, almost smirk-like grin, Hermione walked along the shelves, inhaling the scent of the old tomes while caressing their spines with a fleeting but loving touch. It was good to be back here and she promised herself that nobody would be able to keep her away anymore from the place she loved most. Not Umbridge, and certainly no Slytherin, even if they'd taken over all nightly patrols.

At least that was the theory.

Reality was quite a different matter.

But perhaps it was fate that had a hand in it, because there was no way her thought had conjured up the very Slytherin who was approaching her now and disrupting her quest for restricted knowledge.

Of course, if you asked him, he'd claim it was his stalking skills that allowed him to catch her unaware. If you asked her though, she'd say that he'd just been waiting for a culprit he could report to Umbridge and then have a party at their expense.

"In the Restricted Section after curfew. Granger, Granger..." he reprimanded her playfully while shaking his head.

She froze in shock. How did he…

Her eyes fell on her exposed hand, splayed against the spine of an old leather tome.

Oh!

She quickly pulled her hand back under the cloak.

"Granger…" he drawled. "I've already seen your hand."

Well, there was no more use pretending she wasn't here, was there? She might as well turn around and face him then.

But she wouldn't go down without a fight.

She whirled around, ready to… she forgot what she wanted to do and gasped in surprise instead. Not because it was him. After all she had recognized his voice immediately. No, she was startled because she found him towering above her and much too close for her liking. So close in fact that her nose was almost buried in his chest.

When had he grown so tall?

She took a tentative step back as her eyes travelled up his neck and met his. Despite the darkness, his pale grey orbs were boring straight into hers, gauging her reaction and holding her gaze as if he knew exactly where she had focused on.

How…

"The night vision charm…" he answered her unspoken question. "The one you're using."

Though it was a statement, she nodded her affirmation anyway.

This was Malfoy. Of course he would know this charm and how to use it. Still it didn't explain how he'd identified her by her unadorned hand alone. After all she'd been walking with her back to him and even though her face had been uncovered so she could see better, her head had been hidden beneath the cloak as if she'd been wearing a hood. There was no way he could've known it was she, was there?

Seeing the wheels turning in her head and knowing what she was mulling over, he gave her a knowing smirk. "Only you would sneak into the library in the middle of the night. The Restricted Section no less…"

Although this was true and the most obvious reason, there was something else that had alerted him to her presence: her scent.

Shite!

He knew her scent.

Bugger this!

He would not contemplate why he knew her scent. No way!

"Most pupils wouldn't know what to look for in these books…"

Was that a hidden compliment?

She was puzzled. He swallowed.

He'd just complimented her. What was wrong with him?

"And most people wouldn't have an invisibility cloak. I assume it belongs to Potter." Again it was a statement, not a question.

And Hermione responded by crossing her arms over her chest (unknowingly lifting the cloak so her feet became visible) and pressing her lips together, clearly stating she would not reveal a word.

"Nevermind that. Only you would molest these books with such reverence."

Molest?

Her eyebrows rose.

With reverence?

Is that even possible? It's a paradox!

"I didn't 'molest' any books!"

What in Godric's name made him think of 'molest'?

It was exactly what he was thinking; only in his case his swearing consisted of 'by Salazar's blood'. But that was beside the point.

The point was Blaise was right. Granger's innocence and fire were incredibly arousing, an inspiration to wild fantasies. Like a midnight shag against this very shelf, so hard and fast it'd rattle, maybe even topple.

Now there's an idea!

Seeing the hungry, faraway look in his eyes, Hermione swallowed. This wasn't about her molesting books; it was about him wanting to molest her! By Morganna, the rumour was actually true. Malfoy abused his status as member of the Inquisitorial Squad to blackmail girls into sexual favours. Oh, this was so…

The perv! The…

What am I still doing here?

She needed to escape, but she couldn't exactly run away. He'd just follow her, surely catch her and then she'd pay even more dearly. No, she'd have to handle him with caution. Meaning slowly retreat backwards and, as soon as she was out of the library, running for her life.

"Well, I better get back to my essay." She casually waved her hand towards the library doors somewhere behind all those shelves (at least she hoped the door was that way) and took a step backwards. And when it looked like he wouldn't stop her another.

But there was that problem with theory again for fate struck one more time. Hermione stumbled into a hard, uneven wall that placed hands on her waist to steady her.

Wall + hands = someone else.

Startled, she jumped away and whirled around. Blaise Zabini was standing right in front of her, the glow of his wand highlighting the strange look in his eyes.

Blimey! Another Slytherin!

But there was more to him than that. He (like Malfoy) came from a very rich, influential and prestigious family. That alone earned him Umbridge's support and good will. But she remembered it hadn't been enough for his Slytherin peers when he'd started at Hogwarts. Some of them (ranging from first to fourth years) had taken his quiet and lonesome nature as an invitation to torment him and had quickly regretted it.

No one outside Slytherin knew exactly what Zabini's revenge had been, but his slyness and subtlety in meeting out his punishment had won him a seat further up the Slytherin table (between two beautiful fifth year girls and right across from Malfoy). Needless to say he'd moved further up the table with each year and no one had dared to make fun of him since then. Not even when it became obvious that he had trouble performing in front of the class.

Of course he'd mastered that unwelcome flaw long ago. Hermione herself had seen him improve and perfect his performances because she had shared (in fact still shared) most of her classes with him. And now he was among the top five pupils at Hogwarts.

He was sly, clever and ambitious. No wonder many peers were afraid of him. Unlike them, Hermione was impressed by those characteristics. Still she had to admit that there was one thing about Zabini that really frightened her: Malfoy.

The two Slytherins had been best mates since the beginning of the year and judging from the behaviour she'd observed, their friendship had started long before the end of summer. And that meant it had had time to grow. It showed in the closeness they possessed, but hid from everyone.

Successfully.

Except for Hermione Granger. She'd observed, analysed and seen through it. They were a unit now and that made them more dangerous. Who knew what two smart Slytherins were capable of?

And she knew first hand just how smart they both were. Malfoy's grades were second to hers, except in Potions where he beat her repeatedly. Zabini was close behind as well (though he was quieter about it). But having partnered him in classes often enough, she didn't doubt that he already ranked third amongst this year's brightest fifth years.

Deep trouble didn't even begin to describe it.

"You're not planning some dark plot against Umbridge, are you?" Blaise asked her. His gaze was unreadable now, his face neutral and his posture relaxed.

Well, he didn't have anything to fear after all. She did.

And she knew as well that whatever she said, how much she denied she'd dig herself in even deeper. Not that she'd been looking for a way to get rid of Umbridge (it was actually a good idea though) but who would believe her? When she'd been found in the Restricted Section, after curfew and without permission, by two Slytherins, who were also of the Inquisitorial Squad?

Wait!

Was Zabini even on the Inquisitorial Squad?

She cursed herself for not having bothered to find that out before she'd been cornered by the two of them. Damn Zabini for always being so quiet and private that one couldn't help but overlook him. No, that didn't sound right. If you had eyes (Hermione certainly had) and were female, you just couldn't not notice him. He was far too handsome to ignore him and not even his quiet nature could change that. Though she figured those attributes certainly made it easy to write him off as no threat.

Unless he caught you in the Restricted Section, in the middle of the night and without permission.

Breaking his gaze, she took a peek at his chest, searching for the badge on his robe. Without success for he was wearing a tight, dark jumper that had nothing on it.

Did this mean he wasn't a member of the Squad then? Or just the opposite?

Her eyes wandered back up to his face, hoping for a sign, a confirmation, a …

Merlin!

When had he grown so tall? He had not been towering above her before, had he? Then again… it seemed that everyone (except her and a few other females) had been attacked by a growth spurt lately.

Or had he done something to his shoes? She looked down, but there was nothing out of the ordinary. So her eyes climbed back up his form, noticing (and appreciating) his long, strong legs accentuated by black, perfectly tailored trousers, his lean yet lightly muscled chest leading into a set of shoulders that promised to become quite broad and his slightly protruding Adam's apple (confirming that he was on his way to adulthood) before they stopped at his face.

It was oval and framed by dark, curly hair that reached to his ears on top, but down to the nape of his neck in the back. His eyebrows were just as dark, perhaps even black. It was his eyes that surprised her. She'd never noticed before, but they were blue like the ocean, yet calm as standing water. His nose was straight and medium-sized - she could only characterize it as aristocratic-looking - leading down to his mouth with its long, pale-pink lips, which promised delightful kisses.

No. No. No.

She shouldn't think about Blaise Zabini like that.

Wait!

Blaise.

Wasn't that French?

Then again her own name was derived from the Greek god Hermes and there was no one Greek in her family tree.

Now where was she again?

Oh, yes.

Blaise Zabini.

By Morganna's hair!

He was beautiful. Not in a girlish sort of way for his bearing and body screamed male, but handsome just wouldn't do him justice and gorgeous simply sounded too plebeian if you used it in reference to him.

So beautiful really was the only word fitting.

"His beauty is breathtaking, isn't it?" Malfoy whispered in her ear, interrupting her train of thought.

Startled, she pulled her eyes away from the dark-haired Slytherin and concentrated on the blond for he was the more dangerous one of the duo and he'd just proven it by getting close without her noticing. She needed to be more alert and careful around him. But as she was looking at him, she never noticed that he distracted her as much as Zabini had done.

There was no nasty scowl on his face, marring his features and urging her to quickly end the business she had with him. Just the opposite. The look he was giving her was neutral, his eyes just a bit inviting (calm instead of stormy) and she seized the opportunity to study him more thoroughly.

Whereas Zabini was warm and open, Malfoy displayed a cool beauty that was easily mistaken for coldness and arrogance. But if you looked closely his coldness translated into a calculated aloofness, which was necessary to keep the girls throwing themselves at him at bay and to discourage most of the women hunting him for his name and money only.

His arrogance was actually pride, the sum of the fact that he possessed immense power (he had great magical abilities, possessed intelligence, was rich and gifted with good looks) and being aware of it.

All in all Draco Malfoy was a young, confident man with a presence that demanded attention, but provoked envy and jealousy as well.

Standing before him now it didn't surprise her that he inspired both negative and positive feelings around him. There was a certain appeal to him she couldn't explain and she certainly couldn't stop looking at him.

He was tall (taller than his friend in fact) but his whole body was hidden underneath his school robe. It was quite disappointing and left her wondering if he'd developed hard muscles during all the years of playing Quidditch or if he was sleek like a jockey, the preferred shape of most seekers because it allowed them to master top speeds without any hindrances.

Blast!

She had definitely listened to one too many talks about the game thanks to Ron and Harry. She mentally shook her head to rid herself of this disturbing revelation and focused on the matter at hand again: Malfoy's face.

It was heart-shaped, with the famous pointed chin and framed by his pale blond hair. Its fringes were hanging into his eyes, almost hiding the pale grey orbs and brown eyebrows.

What a strange combination.

But it suited him. Just like his nose. It was straight and not as pointed as it had been in his younger years, directing her gaze to his full, bow-shaped mouth that was made for drawn out snogging sessions.

Warmth spread through her, making her body tingle in anticipation.

Snogging sessions???

Her eyebrows rose and her eyes widened. She had not just thought that, had she?

But she had. She knew because Malfoy was looking at her with a puzzled expression and that could only mean she had made a face (maybe she was still making it) that indicated her disbelief.

She needed to calm down.

Immediately.

But it was too late. Her mind had a mind of its own. It made her aware what kind of situation she was in: She was trapped between two dangerous, yet beautiful Slytherins.

Slytherin sandwich.

Ugh!

She mentally shook her head again, trying to get rid of the image and then corrected herself.

Bad, bad Slytherins! Nothing more.

But they had yet to make a move or threat to report her.

Or had they something else in mind?

Of course they have! They're Slytherins!

And she was all alone with them, in the dark Restricted Section, the flickering of Blaise's wand the only source of light, dancing over the rows of old books with dangerous and questionable or possibly sexual content...

She swallowed, feeling the warmth inside her centering deep down below her belly, and her traitorous mind misused her distraction to remind her that her two unwanted companions were in a certain stage of puberty that turned them into hormone-driven time bombs. And the scary part was she wouldn't mind if they exploded on her, here and right now.

Shite!

Her mind was out of control and jumped right down into the hidden drawer labelled 'Adult Fantasy Section'. She was bombarded with images of them and her together (naked at that!) between the stacks, against the books, on the floor, in a chair and on a table, doing things she'd never done before.

The tingle that had started with the realization that Malfoy's lips were made for snogging had turned into full-blown arousal thanks to her imagination. She wanted to moan, touch herself or have them touch her to stop the burning ache between her thighs. But she couldn't give in. Not in front of them and certainly not with them, so she pressed her thighs together to silence her need and found her knickers already damp.

She blushed deeply and they closed in on her in response.

Blimey!

Had they noticed?

What a ridiculous thought. They were no animals (at least most of the time they were not) and they certainly were no vampires with enhanced smell. Although, the way they were looking at her now, all intent and hungry…

Perhaps her speculation wasn't so offhand after all. Malfoy was quite pale, had always been…

Oh. Oh.

She stepped back, trying to put some distance between them, but her two predators followed until the rows of books behind her stopped her retreat.

Great!

She was trapped. And she had to get out of here. But how?

"W…w…what do you want?" she stuttered.

Would they use her unplanned reaction as blackmail? Or humiliate her with it? Or would they suck her blood?

No. No.

The latter was out of question. Malfoy would never steep so low and drink a mudblood.

Ugh!

Why was she suddenly so obsessed with vampires? And what was Zabini doing? Why was he suddenly leaning down? Towards her? He wasn't going to kiss her, was he?

No, he wasn't. He angled his head just slightly and a moment later she felt his cheek brush hers. It was surprisingly soft and warm and without any stubble. She closed her eyes and sighed, savouring the feel.

"Hermione?" Blaise started.

What? Who?

Oh, that's me!

She opened her eyes and found Malfoy looking down at her with an amused expression.

"What?" she asked but wasn't sure to whom she'd directed her question.

Malfoy just grinned in response, mouthed 'nothing' and turned his attention back to Zabini.

And so did she.

"I want you to be careful in what you do. Can you do that for me, Hermione?" Blaise whispered, his warm breath caressing the sensitive skin of her ear, his voice sliding against her like velvet.

Oh my!

He took her breath away, but she couldn't let him know. And since she didn't trust her voice to give a proper response, she nodded instead, feeling her cheek rubbing slightly against his soft skin once more.

Oh gods!

She really shouldn't have done this, but it was already too late. He felt too good. How could she resist? She sighed again and closed her eyes in surrender.

"Good… because we wouldn't want anything to happen to you, would we?" he continued.

Well…

Logic dictated that he was referring to her rule breaking, but her body and mind gave a whole new meaning to far-fetched interpretation. The warning coming out of Blaise's mouth sounded like a wicked promise to her. She shivered in pleasure and bit her lip, preventing the moan coming from deep within her to pass her lips.

Without success.

She heard the muffled sound anyway. It was particularly loud in her ears and she was sure they had heard it as well. The thought made her stiffen and her eyes flew open in shock.

This couldn't be happening to her. A Slytherin wasn't supposed to affect her like this. She wanted to bolt, but found herself frozen to the spot and staring into Blaise's deep blue eyes, mesmerized.

Blast!

She had not even noticed that he'd stepped back after he'd whispered in her ear.

What the hell was happening to her?

There was confusion, lust and anticipation in her eyes, but sadly her fear as well.

"Ah, Hermione…" Blaise sighed in regret, touched by the emotions warring in her eyes. "The time hasn't come..." He gave her an understanding smile. "Yet."

Malfoy though wasn't so sympathetic it seemed: "So hurry off to your tower before we do something *you* might regret."

Her head swivelled around and she locked eyes with him, trying to read him, to figure out what he meant. He couldn't be offering her getting out of this unscathed, could he? This was so unlike him. Then again it was so unlike her to see his threat as an invitation to wicked and naughty abandon.

Slytherin sandwich, an inner voice reminded her.

Merlin's beard!

She really needed someone to clear her head. She was completely bonkers. Malfoy couldn't be suggesting what she was fantasizing about. He was a Malfoy. He wouldn't associate with her, a mudblood. No way. So what the hell was wrong with her to think he'd ever want her?

Oh right, I'm the hormone-driven time bomb in this little ménage a troi.

And had she really just used the words ménage a troi? Yes, she had and it proved that she was the sex-crazed one here and not them.

"Hermione?" Blaise pulled her out of her thoughts and she turned back to him. "You're free to go."

What? Why?

She mentally smacked herself. Wasn't that what she wanted? When her mind wasn't focused on getting it on with them that is.

Wait! No blackmail?

Still smiling, Blaise said: "It's alright… you may go."

Really?

"Really."

Right. Perfect. I need a cold shower. No. A warm shower. Or warm hands. Their hands. No. No. No. *My* hands. Not theirs. Never theirs.

Not Zabini's warm palms and strong fingers that were probably as soft as Draco's would be calloused from all the Quidditch playing. But perhaps Malfoy used charms or potions to keep them immaculate? Either way, his fingers certainly had to be long and agile or he wouldn't be able to catch the snitch as easily as he did (when he wasn't playing against Harry). Damn, what would it feel like to have these seeker fingers on her body? Inside her?

By Godric's sword!

Here she was at it again, a helpless victim to her hormones, a victim with strong hands on her invisible hips.

Merlin! Malfoy's hands!

On my hips!

He pulled her back against his hard chest.

Mmh, that feels good.

A shiver ran up and down her spine. But what was that thing poking into her lower back?

Oh.

Oh!

"Run!" he breathed into her ear.

And she did. Without thought, without a backwards glance, she fled the library and stormed into the Gryffindor tower, and there straight into Ron's arms.



The end of this encounter.

revised 1st March 2006



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